


THAT after credits scene 1.5

by Team_Free_Tardis_Deduction



Series: Civil War: What Is, What Was, What Could Have Been... [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: AU, Alternate - Freeform, Alternate Scene, Angst, CACW, Captain America - Freeform, Captain America Civil War - Freeform, Civil War, Drabble, Emotional, Feels, Ficlet, Headcanon, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sadness, Ship, Spoilers, Well - Freeform, cap 3, gay ship, i have no fucking clue how to tag this, i live for the tears, i'm a sad mess, leave me alone, mcu - Freeform, my sad old gay babies are crying, one is, otp, sticky feels, the other is trying to stay strong because he's that kind of sweet asshole
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-01
Updated: 2016-05-01
Packaged: 2018-06-05 16:22:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6712345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Team_Free_Tardis_Deduction/pseuds/Team_Free_Tardis_Deduction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An alternate route for the CACW 1st after credits scene ft. Bucky, Steve and a CRYo chamber...</p>
            </blockquote>





	THAT after credits scene 1.5

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted to add a pinch of sadness. A little more Stucky. A little more pain because I'm that kind of person.
> 
> I just really needed to write. And Civil War is the only thing on my mind, so...  
> Don't hate me. I'm in pain. We all are.

Bucky felt light on one side. Uncomfortably so; unbalanced. He had to consciously lean the opposite way when he sat, stood, walked, just so he wouldn't topple over.

Steve kept giving him odd looks. Pained looks, guilty looks- worst of all, angry looks. He wasn't mad at Tony. Not anymore, not exactly. He was angry at himself, though Bucky couldn't understand why. He knew Steve, he remembered him, as much as one might remember a character from a childhood story; one they cherished to the point of obsession. One that grew into an illusion, an imaginary friend for when they were alone and in the dark.  
He had recollection of their time before the war, and the ensuing complications. He had these memories filed away in his mind, and when he closed his eyes he could almost watch them, like a film reel projected onto his eyelids. That's what they were. Stories, like old films, that he knew and loved, but couldn't touch in the way most memories could be felt.

He didn't feel all there, all whole. His memories where splashed with the vicious red of his time as the Soldier. For every bright light that was his time with Steve, there was a ominous shadow spilling out from around the repressing walls he'd built for himself. 

Steve looked at him now, and his face was sad.

"Buck," He spoke so gently, with such softness to his tone, like Bucky was this fragile thing he could frighten away with a harsh word. "Are you sure about this?"

"Yes." Bucky said simply, with profound conviction. He was sure, his decision was absolute.

Steve nodded. His gaze lowered. He swallowed hard, his lips parting with a slight audible sound.  
"I don't-" He said, stopping himself.

"My mind is made up, Steve."

Steve's eyes flicked up to meet his, glistening blue, shining with unshed tears. Bucky couldn't take it, he looked away.   
  
"I can't let you go." Steve mumbled, his voice fragile like Buck's ma's old china, chipped at the edges where his self-control began to slip.

Bucky sighed. "You have to. This is my choice."

"I know," Steve choked. "I know that, Buck."

"It's not forever. Just a little while. Just until things are sorted."

"Who knows how long it'll take." It seemed Steve couldn't look at him. He didn't sound sad now so much as bitter. "You could be in there a while. A real while, Buck. And who's to say there's even anything we can do?"

"There'll be something." Bucky said, firmly.

"How can we know," Steve's lips curled grimly. "If you're not around to help out? We need to awake. We need your input."

Bucky stood, the struggle that it was, and tried to look Steve square in the eyes. "This is for the best, pal."

Steve turned, his brow furrowed, the corner of his mouth twitching as he fought back the crumpling despair closing in around him. Bucky hated that he was doing this to him. He hated it.  
But he was adamant it was necessary.

Steve was still staring at the floor, head bowed in surrender, his shoulders sloping. "I'm going to miss you." He whispered.

Bucky didn't know what to say.

A Wakandan nurse poked her head round the corner, a professional smile playing across her lips, big doe eyes protruding from beneath a thick fringe. "Are you ready, Mr. Barnes?"

"Just a second." Steve replied, his voice strengthened with the last of his self-control. As soon as the nurse slipped out of the doorway and the locked clicked back into place the dam broke and Captain America crumbled.

He was fast, damn fast, his arms snapping up with the speed and precision of a striking snake, slinking around Bucky's shoulders until he was entirely encircled in _Steve_. His head buried into the crook of Bucky's good shoulder, tucked beneath the loose strands of his hair and pressed into the fabric of his shirt. Bucky could feel Steve's tears leaking through his clothes, his whole body quaking with each of his heavy, wet sobs, pressed so tightly against the taller man's chest he could feel his too-big heart pounding against the cage of his ribs.

"Oh, god... Oh, god..." Steve croaked, his voice thick. "Oh, god, Buck. Buck, I'm gonna miss you. Bucky, I'm gonna miss you so much."

"It's going to be alright, Steve." Bucky hushed him, bringing his hand up to run it through the short bristles of blond hair at the back of Steve's head. "It's going to be okay. You'll be alright. I'm- I'm going to miss you, too, you goddamn punk." And he refused to cry. He utterly refused.

"I only just got you back." Bucky could almost physically feel Steve's heart breaking. "I only just got you back."

"I'll be back." Bucky promised, still carding his fingers through Steve's hair. "I will, good as new. No problems, no... Nothing. Just me."

Steve sniffed, shifting slightly so his chin rested on the curve of Bucky's shoulder. He turned and pressed the slightest kiss to Bucky's neck. He didn't say anything, he didn't have to.  
Bucky pulled away, taking Steve's trembling hands in his, steadying them. Placing his one remaining hand to the base of Steve's neck, he stretched up and pressed a kiss to his forehead, closing his eyes and taking a second to breathe Steve in, to relish in the smoothness of his skin and the warmth of him, alive and well. Bucky wouldn't risk Steve. He just wouldn't do it.

* * *

 

Bucky relaxed as much as he could, nerves and anticipation spasming his muscles, giving him the shakes. He tried to smile at Steve, to look passed the mess and heartache and come across as reassuring as possible. It was for the best, he was utterly convinced. But Steve wasn't, and that hurt.  
He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came to mind.

The doctor pressed that button and the doors began to close around him.

"Sweet dreams, Buck." Steve conjured up a smile; small and half-mouthed, but a smile all the same. 

The tank sealed with a hiss and the ice crept up from his feet. It was only a second of unbearable, burning cold. Only a brief moment of consciousness as the blue engulfed him and the crystals spread like broken glass across the window of his cryo chamber. 

And in that brief moment, Bucky could've sworn he saw a little fella, about half his height and one eighth of his weight looking up at him with eyes like the sky, peering beneath a shock of straw coloured hair and down a nose that seemed to large and crooked for his thin face; full, impossibly pink lips quirked into a smile that tugged at one side.

"Don't do anything stupid until I get back." He thought.

Steve laughed. "How can I? You're taking all the stupid with you."


End file.
